This post is written in two languages and divided for ease of reading.
Este post está escrito en dos idiomas y dividido para facilitar la lectura.
Pequeña yo.
Lo lamento si he sido la causante de tus decepciones, no he sido la madre que esperabas y, a pesar de que me juré protegerte, terminé por lastimarte. No comprendía tus necesidades, mientras tu deseabas salir a jugar yo me sentaba frente a ti a seguir llorando, llorando las heridas por las cuáles yo misma navegaba para no hacerlas cicatrizar.
No entiendo porque nosotros los adultos nos llenamos el alma de rencores, cuando ustedes los niños os perdonáis si otro os quita el puesto en el columpio. Hemos perdido las herramientas para entender que todo aquel que nos rodea también está aprendiendo a navegar por estos espacios.
Pequeña yo.
Tu queriendo alguien a quien amar, sin importar las condiciones, he sido yo quien te ha dicho que los humanos solemos ser dañinos. No te he permitido salir a amar a tus padres, porque no entiendo que ellos también lo intentaron y que hicieron lo mejor, porque al final ¿Quién determina al padre perfecto? Yo no, de eso estoy segura.
Te he tenido aprisionada en recuerdos que no te interesan, porque en la infinidad de tu espíritu comprendes que las personas estamos aquí para seguir intentándolo y has sabido perdonar. Sin embargo, soy culpable de señalarte y juzgarte porque no has querido ser fuerte para superar, creyendo que algo debías superar.
Pequeña yo.
He sido yo, quién redunda tanto, la que se ha tatuado en el cuerpo y en el alma esos dolores. He sido yo, quién al crecer se ha creído que el mundo debía maquinar como lo imaginaba en mi cabeza, he sido yo quién ha juzgado a sus padres pretendiendo eliminar su humanidad sólo por ser mis padres.
He sido yo quién te ha tomado del brazo y te ha encerrado en un cuarto, donde no hay ser capaz de atravesarlo, porque de esa manera pretendía protegerte. Te estás perdiendo del mundo, de los amigos, de tus juegos y la belleza de los tropiezos. Porque he pensado que el ser adulto me daba el derecho de gerenciar tu vida con total autoridad, cuando tu esencia y espiritualidad es lo que te guía en el ser.
El mundo no debe detenerse para voltear a mirarme y pedirme perdón. Soy yo quién debe detenerse, voltear a mirarte y pedirte perdón a vos, porque creí que acorralarte era tenerte protegida. Porque creí que inducirte al miedo te hacía ágil.
Pequeña yo.
Sal, juega y diviértete. Busca de esos niños a los cuáles perdonáis siempre cuando se cuelan en los columpios, sigue clavando las manos en la tierra, sigue andando descalza, no importa que no te peines. Siente el aire en el alma.
Sólo así comprenderé entonces, que vivo, vivo por lo alto y respiro porque ahora vos, vives.
Little me.
I am sorry if I have been the cause of your disappointments, I have not been the mother you expected and, even though I swore to protect you, I ended up hurting you. I didn't understand your needs, while you wanted to go out and play I sat in front of you crying, crying for the wounds that I myself navigated so as not to make them heal.
I don't understand why we adults fill our souls with resentment, when you children forgive yourselves if someone else takes your place on the swing. We have lost the tools to understand that everyone around us is also learning to navigate these spaces.
Little me.
You wanting someone to love, no matter the conditions, I have been the one to tell you that we humans tend to be harmful. I haven't allowed you to go out and love your parents, because I don't understand that they tried too and did their best, because in the end who determines the perfect parent? Not me, of that I am sure.
I have kept you imprisoned in memories that do not interest you, because in the infinity of your spirit you understand that we people are here to keep trying and you have known how to forgive. However, I am guilty of pointing at you and judging you because you have not wanted to be strong to overcome, believing that you had to overcome something.
Little me.
It has been me, who rounded up so much, who has tattooed on my body and soul those pains. I was the one who, growing up, believed that the world should be as I imagined it in my head, I was the one who judged your parents, pretending to eliminate their humanity just because they were my parents.
It was I who took you by the arm and locked you in a room, where there is no being capable of crossing it, because in this way I wanted to protect you. You are missing out on the world, your friends, your games and the beauty of stumbling. Because I thought that being an adult gave me the right to manage your life with total authority, when your essence and spirituality is what guides you in being.
The world should not stop to look at me and ask for forgiveness. It is I who must stop, turn to look at you and ask for your forgiveness, because I believed that to corner you was to have you protected. Because I thought that inducing you to fear made you agile.
Little me.
Go out, play and have fun. Look for those children you always forgive when they sneak on the swings, keep digging your hands into the ground, keep walking barefoot, no matter if you don't comb your hair. Feel the air in your soul.
Only then I will understand that I live, I live on high and I breathe because now you live.
